


Youth in Repose

by apeirophobia



Category: Original Work
Genre: Death, F/M, Gen, Historical References, Motherhood, Poetry, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 20:25:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3704049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apeirophobia/pseuds/apeirophobia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A little poem I wrote. It's inspired by historical events and monarchs past, but it's not supposed to be about any one real-life person. Also, it vaguely resembles a Decemberists song, as dark poetry is want to do. :]</p>
    </blockquote>





	Youth in Repose

**Author's Note:**

> A little poem I wrote. It's inspired by historical events and monarchs past, but it's not supposed to be about any one real-life person. Also, it vaguely resembles a Decemberists song, as dark poetry is want to do. :]

there’s a pause of breath in these halls, like a gasp you can’t let yourself take

and the dust on the window sill will never settle, the curve of sunlight across the stairs and—

your son will never see his ninth birthday (and all of this has been for nought)

there’s a likes of you, knees bent and head bowed as you pray (just to be heard)

you thought someone was listening, you thought someone noticed, you thought someone _cared_

(you thought a lot of childish things) whispers behind your back and you think, 

if you could just make him _happy_ (happiness or not, his satisfaction or not, there’s no getting out of this alive)

 

but that rattle in his lungs and the turn of your face (why didn’t I think of this sooner?)

you’re running a race with no finish line, why did you smile? (why did you say _yes_?)

why did you bow your head when you should have bared your teeth? why did you— 

sheets soaked red and you won’t last the week, and you’re a loss, a broken and wearied thing 

(so tired for half past ten) and the ache in your soul isn’t for your lost life, it’s for the injustice of it all

 

fingers tracing his face lovingly, and it’s the only mother’s touch he’ll ever know 

(he’ll _never_ know, and you thank God for that, that he won’t remember you)

you were never sweet, you were fifteen years old and born for this, to die like this, 

just one in a line of victims (but you said yes) and it matters even when it shouldn’t

the look on his face when he smiled at you, like you meant something to him

a decade and a half of pretense and trying, for a page in a history book 

and a painting is not so bad (others have had far worse) and it’d bite a little less if your son’s life hadn’t been over before it begun

—side by side, two gravestones for children who never lived

 

(and at least you’re not lonely)

 

 you’re just a catalyst for others’ lives (and you said yes to the ring and yes to the crown and _yes_ to being a pawn even if you never said yes to being played) 

and no to trust, no to the possibility of friendship, no to innocence and ignorance and the safety it affords, _no_ like fingers curled in blankets that won’t unfurl,

like a grimace on your face in death (no, like you won’t let go, won’t let them take everything) 

the loss of everything that you are hurts less when you have nothing to give

 

(can you build me a soul?) like there’s something to save; like nostalgia for a place you’ve never been, 

his hand is rough in yours and you think (I want my name to be known, I want my son back, I want to have been born someone else) 

I _wanted_ (to go down this road) I wanted _so much._

I want I want I _want_ —a different end to this story

 

he says, would you be mine?, like it was ever that simple, like it was ever a choice, like you were ever anyone else’s 

(but maybe you were once your own) before coronations and holy water and that gap where your heart could have been 

(before pale impressions on your ring finger and tiny toes that will never touch the ground) 

take a breath and don’t lose yourself in folds of velvet and pressed glass (take your last breath, keep something for yourself) 

and smile

 


End file.
